Life of the Hallowed
by life1428
Summary: Gale's POV. After Mockingjay, not yet the epilouge. Life has lost it's meaning. Gale has one option, or so it seems. But..  I'm not sure how long this will be. Rated T for themes in the beginning.
1. First Step to Death

She was everything to me. And she was lost. She had turned to me a blind eye. I was no longer her friend. I was just an echo of a previous life.

I made my way to District 12, or its ruins. I walked through the town at night, not wanting to let anyone that I was here or about to do. I was born here; I grew up here; I suffered here. And I planned to die here, too.

I pass the center of town. Feeling sentimental, I walk towards it. I remember the day I was whipped, feeling the scars in my back tingle. I sit down, recreating the day in my mind. It's painful, but what is more painful than losing everything that has meaning to you? I'd put myself at the mercy of Thread a million times if it meant being able to have my old life back. But it won't. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths. This will be my last visit here.

Getting up, I walk to where my old home in the Seam was. I sift through the ashes, trying to find something of importance to me. I find, out of all things, my game bag. It has a rip in the side, the edges singed, but otherwise completely intact. It still has the rope I left in it. Perfect. I remove the rope, and tuck it into my jacket. I leave my game bag where I found it. I also find one of the metal cups that belonged to my father. I scoop up some of the ashes. Why it has meaning to me, I'm not sure. My life is meaningless now. I have one final task. And I plan to carry this one out.

I take my time leaving. Time is no longer a problem. As long as I'm in the woods by daybreak, I should be fine. Still holding my cup of ashes, I walk past the other ruined structures of the Seam. So many people died in these houses. Do I wish I was one of them? I decide not. I want to die at only the hands of myself. I want to die willingly. When hope is lost. Not when I thought I really had a chance in the world. Now that my life is just as bad as one of the houses here do I accept death as a friend, not fiend.

I slip under the fence in the woods. Naturally, I keep my pace quiet; my last deed shouldn't mean disturbing the animals that live here. I've already ruined so many people. I trek around the woods, stopping here and there to savor a memory. I reach the rock. I sit on the center of it, running my fingers over its smooth surface. It would be perfect. This moment. If I was able to enjoy it.

I look up, and see a tree branch jutting a few feet above and away from the rock. I take the rope out of my pocket. Rubbing some of the ashes from the cup in between my hands, I tie a simple knot; the knot of a noose. Standing on the rock, I fasten the noose onto the tree branch. Ironically, it's a willow.

I pour the rest of the ashes onto the ground. The wind picks some of them up, leaving a small black cloud around my feet. The first lights of the morning are starting to show. I walk to the lake, cup in my hands. I dip the cup in the water, rinsing out the ashes. Once more I do this before filling the cup and walking back to my hanging tree. I sit back on the rock, placing the cup next to me. I sit until the sun is up, the sky a furious orange. I stand, grabbing the cup.

Raising the cup to the sky, as if making a toast, I say, "You win. My life is over, my mind is in chaos. Thanks for letting me try." I drink, the cool water sliding down my throat. I step onto the rock, and fix the noose so that it's in the right position. Just as I'm about to step off the rock, ultimately ending my life, a figure appears.

"Gale?"


	2. Second Chance?

I stop. I would continue my step to death if it weren't for the person who had just stepped out of the trees. If it weren't for the person who had driven me to the point of removing myself from the burden of living. Katniss Everdeen.

A cold feeling that has nothing to do with the wind that perks up rushes through me. A feeling of anger, almost. That when I think it's all going to be over, life pushes yet another obstacle at me. Like its testing me, see how I react, see if I give in. Part of it is directed at Katniss; the entire point in traveling at night was so that I could spare her the pain of seeing me again, and she just walks in as I'm just about to give in. She is the only person that would be able to stop me from doing this.

"Gale? What are you doing?" She sounds almost hysterical. I would be too if I saw her about to hang herself…

"Exactly what it looks like." My voice is cold and clear, ringing through the forest like a bell.

She swears under her breath. I can see her trying to make a plan, something to distract me from doing the inevitable. What she doesn't understand is that her presence is a distraction enough. I return my foot to back to the rock, stabling myself, even if momentarily. I wait for her to do something; if she doesn't soon I'm just going to get this over with. End the pain that started up the day that she assassinated Coin; when my bomb killed Prim. Even know we weren't sure if it was mine or not, a feeling in my gut tells me it is so. I hated myself. Every single step I took I loathed myself. I still do. I thought that taking my own life in exchange for all of those that were killed because of the plans I made… But fate has been pitted against me from square one.

She speaks again, using my moment of thought to her advantage. "Gale, get down from there. It's not worth it, things will get better." She sounds confident and sure of herself, I almost believe it. But nothing can remove the pain and woe I've inflicted upon others; every single plan I made during the war helped ruin someone else's life. Death was the only answer I could see. Even if I rot away in hell, I want to be relieved of this nightmare. I could try to explain it to Katniss. I push that thought out of my head. She is so stubborn, so unwilling to let people explain themselves or make her understand. Maybe that's why she managed to take control of her life once more. She won't even let her conscience intervene with her beliefs.

"Says who?" I reply. No one can promise better times. She knows that. "If I'm here, what makes you think I will ever see the light in the world again? This is my last resort, Katniss. If I saw light, I'd be clinging on to that thread of hope. I did for a while. It never got better." She stares at me, trying to get into my thoughts. I think she doesn't get what made me so desperate. She may have suffered; I am almost sure she has. But not in the way I have. She wasn't responsible for all those deaths… she may have had to kill a few along the way, but she wasn't killing the innocent. And she has her boyfriend, Peeta. I lost everything when she left. My body became more of a prison to my soul than anything.

She speaks again: "Whatever you've been thinking, snap out of it. I can help you. Please let me help you. You can try to explain it to me." I hear the desperate plea in her voice. It hurts me to think she may need me again; I'll screw her up and leave her in a position that makes her wish that she never stumbled upon what I planned to be my resting place. She takes a step closer to me. She keeps coming closer, until she is less than an arm's length away.

"Please, Gale." She lifts up her head and stares directly into my eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul; if so, she'd she how much I wanted to comfort her, and end myself.

"I'll come on one condition."

"What?" Her reaction is so quick I almost jump.

"I get to turn back at any time and you aren't allowed to stop me."

"Deal." I slowly slip out of the noose, and let it hang. I step down from the rock. Katniss sighs in relief. What she doesn't know is that I'm planning to come back here once she turns her back. While she's sleeping seems like a good time.

An awkward minute of silence passes.

"C'mon, then. I guess we have a lot of catching up to do…" She says. She's putting it lightly. 'Catching up' may fall a little short of what she might be hearing soon. She waits as I cross to where she's standing. She walks next to me, not letting me out of her sight. It doesn't surprise me. She may be a step ahead of me. It doesn't matter. Yet.

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><p><em>AN: Ok, I just want to say that I do not like how this chapter turned out. I will edit it when I find time while I'm not writing... This was the awkward chapter. This was the chapter were I wasn't sure what I wanted to happen. I have more in store for you guys. I'm having a personal debate with myself about what's going to happen next chapter. If you want to help with that, please do. Hope you liked it_


	3. A False Sense of Security

_A/N: I am so, so sorry this took so long to update. I wrote most of this tonight. I didn't have computer access long enough to write, and if I did, I wasn't alone. This switches to Katniss's POV for a bit. If you like it, I'll do it. Otherwise, I'd like to keep to Gale. Without further ado, Chapter Three, A False Sense of Security!_

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><p>Silence accompanies us through the forest. Only the soft sounds of the birds interrupt our thoughts. My mind is racing; a million different things are flooding my brain, not leaving a millisecond for me to process them before another one comes in. Most of them aren't unusual. They are the same ones that have been intruding into my thoughts at every given time, most of them asking: <em>why?<em> A good amount are yelling, jeering at me, telling me that I'm a jerk, a coward, that I should be dead… but I want to be dead…

But there are the new ones, too. Ones that include new waves of pain, more accusations at me, some are even plans on how I can get out of this situation that no one should have to suffer through. Except me. I deserve to suffer. But I don't want to bring anyone down with me. If Katniss is happy without me, let it be so. It has broken me down, and it can break me a thousand times as long as I'm not causing her any more pain. I'll be gone before anyone even realizes I'm missing…Heck, I could turn around right now and walk away and Katniss, who is lost in thought and dead to the world, wouldn't know I was gone until she reached the fence and didn't see me standing next to her. It's tempting, oh-so tempting, but I can't. Maybe this is a second chance. My last chance to make something good happen in the world. I relax. Only a little. But knowing that I might be able to change my life for the better calms me. At this point, I don't think my life could get any worse.

Katniss

When I first saw Gale standing on that rock, noose around his neck, I just about fell to my knees in despair. Life had finally turned the tables on me, and my life was starting to get better. But I knew that if I did, the boy with the snares would no longer be. So I didn't. I wasn't paying attention to anything but getting him to come with me. I succeeded in that. So now, I'm walking next to the boy who I used to call my best friend, alone in the forest, finally able to concentrate on his physical state.

I can count his ribs from twenty feet away. He's been starving himself; but for what, I can't tell. Either way, he's bone thin, worse than when we were living on the animals we hunted. His hair is long, like he hasn't tended to it in months, years maybe. Along with the rest of him, his hair is streaked with dirt and grime. The worst part about him is his eyes. The grey eyes that once burned with a fire of hatred are now dead, full of grief and misery. Those sunken, hollow grey eyes will haunt me, I can tell. One question nags at me: What has driven him to do this? I thought he had a life in District Two; it was one of the only things that made me feel ok with how I left him…

We slip through the fence, me bringing up the rear. I walk with him, side by side, to my house. I open the door and let Gale in, closing and locking it behind me. I'm not sure how much I can trust him.

Gale

Katniss leads me to the living room. She leaves to get wood to stock the fire, returning a few minutes later with the materials. I see a flash of metal slip out her sleeve. I figure it's a watch or something. She slips it back up her sleeve and kneels down to the fire. In a moment, a fire is roaring. I stand around awkwardly, not sure of my next move. She sits, and tells me to sit across from her. I consent. She crosses her arms timidly, and says:

"I just don't get it, Gale. I thought you had a life, a job in Two."

I laugh quietly. Life in Two was hell. No one had a heart to tell her what had really happened. I reply bitterly, "There was no job. I shut myself away; they tried to come out and live again, but I was, and still am, dead. Dead spiritually, if you follow."

She stares at me, mouth open. She doesn't get it yet. That's what I'm hoping for. Just give her a sample of my thoughts, not enough to really understand, and then I'll leave her unscarred. I don't want her to carry any of my suffering.

"But why, Gale?"

I start explaining, once again holding my thoughts, holding my tongue. But, once I start I can't stop. The weight has been on my shoulders far too long. All my thoughts, all my reasons for suffering, every single thing that's been on my mind since the war ended comes spilling out before I can stop myself. What meant to be a few minutes, a couple sentences, turns into an hour of my personal confessions. It feels comforting, almost to know that I don't have to keep my tongue anymore. I finish, and look into Katniss's eyes. To my utmost horror, they reflect my grief. I've made her understand. A new shockwave of guilt courses through me. I get up and sprint for the door. I have to go. She realizes what I'm doing the second I do, and as my hand flies to the doorknob, she grabs the wrist of my free hand.

She looks up into my eyes, a new sadness reflected in her eyes. The sadness of self-sins. She holds a syringe in her hand. That would be that metal thing I mistook for a piece of jewelry.

"I'm sorry, Gale."

My eyes widen with horror. That traitor... She tricked me... I laugh bitterly. It's exactly what I would have done. I walk backwards into the wall, trying to avoid whatever medicine is in that syringe. I'm trapped. That's what she expected me to do. I try to push her away, but she is faster than I am. As i reach out to shove her down, she stabs the needle into my arm. Damn.

My vision goes dark, and fades to black in an instant. I feel my body crumple to the floor before I lose consciousness.


	4. White Flags White Walls

_A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. I should have the next chapter up in a week..Sorry if I don't. Life gets in the way, ya know? Well, anyways, here's the fourth chapter, White Flags; White Walls_

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><p>It takes me a moment to realize that I'm out of what I think is a drug-induced sleep. Once that's done, and I can think clearly, I am faced with a more prominent problem than being knocked out by my former best friend. I'm chained to a wall.<p>

My wrists are bound, behind my back, and they are on a short chain that connects to the wall. From all I can tell, as I'm facing forward and can't turn enough to see it, the chains could be in the wall. My ankles are shackled, and have the same sturdy, metal chains connected to the wall. I consider banging my head against the wall until something happens, possibly knocking myself out again, but, when I lean my head back, I feel some sort of pillow that would prevent me from hurting myself. Katniss, assuming she's the one who had me placed here, has got nerve. These chains will bug me. So will the white walls that make up the room -prison cell- that I'm in.

Everywhere I look, I can see white. Not the soft white like the clouds, but the angry, glaring, almost neon white that comes from L.E.D light bulbs, exactly like the bare, singular one hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. It takes me about fifteen minutes to figure out what I'm doing here. Answer myself about why I'm chained up in a room with stupid white walls. The realization hits me like a slap to the face. I'm in some sort of mental ward.

Anger surges through me. I try to run, only to have the chains restrain me. I try yanking them from the wall, to no avail. I don't want help from people; I don't want to heal, I can't heal… and that's exactly why they put me here. Because I'm they know that I'm suicidal and think that they can change that. I have nothing to live for, so what's the point? Why can't anyone understand that? The guilt has scarred me; there will never be something that makes it ok. I try again to yank the chains out of the wall so I can flee…

It's at that moment when a door opens and Katniss walks in. I still fight my restraints. Concern is etched into her face. She speaks quietly, but her eyes latch onto mine, echoing every word that she speaks.

"I'm sorry Gale, it was for the best. I couldn't, no, can't, let you do that to yourself. It'll all get better, I prom-"

"Don't lie about that, Katniss," I growl. "There's nothing left for me to be happy about." My voice softens considerably." And the only thing that can has closed its doors on me."

She knows that I mean her. She is the only one that will ever be able to make me happy again. And she won't take me. I saw the pain in her eyes when she found out that it was the rebel's bombs (my bombs) that killed her sister. I knew then that she couldn't love me. I won't put false hope there. It can't happen, she's already happy with Peeta, and I won't be the one to take that away.

"Gale…" Words seem to fail her. She knows that she won't be able to love me the way I want her to. I just nod, confirming my point to her. I stop fighting with the chains. She searches for words that she thinks might console me. Silence reigns for a while before she continues:

"Gale… I just can't…"

"Why not?" I say stubbornly. I know why, I just need to hear it again, make myself acknowledge it again. It's rhetorical.

Katniss doesn't respond right away. Tears start to well in her shockingly clear grey eyes. When she speaks, her voice comes out as faint as a ghost and as worn as her mother's was. She chokes out: "Prim."

She lets the stream of tears flow. The guilt pulses through me. _I did this_. I can't remember seeing her this vulnerable; this open with herself to others._ What has happened to Katniss?_

I lock my eyes onto hers. How easily I used to lose myself in them; how easily I could talk to her, look into her eyes and see the bond between us. The simple bond that kept us together besides the need to survive. Now I only see hurt and pain. The affects the war had still scar her as they scar me. But she didn't kill the innocent…

"I… know. I'll never forgive myself. I don't expect you to, either."

My words lead to yet another peal of uncomfortable silence. Katniss looks away and blinks the tears out of her eyes. I look at the ground, suddenly finding the carpet extremely interesting.

"Why?" She blurts it out randomly. She looks shocked with herself, and clamps her hand over her mouth. She whispers, "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said that-"

I cut her off. She has the right to know. The right to know why I made that bomb.

"I was trying to end the war, Catn- Katniss. I designed those bombs hoping that they could be used to destroy a building or something; I never imagined them being used to hurt anyone. Yet, they were used all because I… I was too absorbed in my own thoughts that I didn't question it when we got the order to make a bunch of them, I just made them and they were sent to the hovercraft… and you know what happened next."

"Coin gave the command, right?" She asks, her voice sounding desperate, seeking reassurance. I can't console her… Nobody can miss me when I'm gone… My family and I lost contact a while ago when I shut myself away. They do care, but when I told them that I wanted to go, they accepted it. They accepted it with tears, many tears, but they know that for me, it wouldn't get better. They said their goodbyes.

I force myself to answer. "Yes she did."

The next question comes from out of the blue. "Why can't you heal from the war?"

It completely throws me of balance. My mind staggers; I mentally shut down for a minute.

"Come again?" I say faintly, my voice reflecting my emotions perfectly. She repeats herself, and my mind grasps what she's saying.

"Why can't I heal from the war? I killed the innocent! Thousands of lives were lost at my hands! I don't deserve to live happily ever after! I deserve pain and misery and suffering! And that can't even make what I've done right!" I yell, my voice cracking, sounding desperate. "Just let me die!"

She starts saying things, probably trying to console me, but I ignore them. She gives up talking to me, for now. I'm sure she'll come back later. Katniss turns around and pulls the door open. Before she leaves, she whispers:

"Gale, please don't feel that way. For me." And with that, she pulls the door shut, leaving me to drown in my pool of thoughts.

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><p><em>Ok, I will admit I'm not quite sure what I want to happen in the next chapter, or how I'm going to make something happen between Gale and Katniss that will change things. If you have an ideas, I'm all ears! If I get inspiration, I might be able to update sooner, if you follow... Thanks for reading!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE! Life hasn't been siding with me lately; neither has my homework. And I kinda had no idea what to write... I had help from a reviewer, but putting that plan into action took some serious thinking... _

_But I came to this conclusion: When I started writing this, I wanted this to end in a happy ending with Katniss and Gale. But, I've gotten way to absorbed in my story, and to be honest, I'm not sure how a love story could be played. If anyone has any ideas...? I think you follow my drift. Updates should be more constant once I have an idea of what I'm doing. Thanks to everyone who has read, is reading, or followed this story. And I didn't have any idea what to name this chapter, so today, it's just Chapter 5._

_Three days later:_

I'm still in the room. I'm going mad. I want this to end more than ever. Sticking me in a room with nothing with my thoughts is more dangerous than putting me in a room with a dagger. With a dagger, the pain won't last. In this room, I'm drowning in the guilt and the pain; the hurt and the sorrow. And as much as I want the oxygen to run out, I can still breathe.

I start refusing meals. In pure honesty, it's the only way I can think of as a way out. I know that there are drugs that can (and will) keep you nourished if you can't eat. In my case, I _won't_ eat. They have managed to keep me hydrated. But I have a feeling that Katniss doesn't have these medicines on hand. They are the kind that you need to have major authority to keep, and that is basically at hospitals. If they do happen to have those, which I can only hope they don't, well, I'll find some other way to leave. Maybe this is a form of punishment. If it is, it's working all too well.

I stare at the walls endlessly. The room never changes; the light bulb has never flickered, the door never opening. Not since Katniss's entrance some hours ago. A day, maybe? There is no clock, no window, no way of telling time. Only instinct can tell me how long I've been trapped. I continue to gaze at the wall opposite of me.

It's at that moment that Katniss makes her second appearance. She's noted that I'd been refusing to eat. In her hands she holds a tray and a bottle of water. A faint smile is etched upon her lips. She says sarcastically, "So, you're trying to starve yourself?"

I almost roll my eyes. Almost. I say in reply, "It's the only way. It's not just the only way, but it's one of the worst ways to leave. I deserve to die in pain."

She sighs. "When will you realize that the world around you isn't an enemy? The people in your life don't hate you, Gale. You need to, at some point, start living again."

I don't say anything. I don't need to. My answer is no.

She sees that her first attempt failed. I can't see anything she says working, or having the slightest effect on me. That's until she says, "Fine. If you refuse to eat, then I refuse to eat. Plain and simple." She crosses her arms with an air of finality. Damn, this is going to be hard.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Basically, after that, she walked out of the room, and walked back in about, maybe two minutes later, a wooden stool in tow. Katniss set it down, and sat, and looked at me. That brings me to the present, having Katniss stare around the room while I try and figure out, well, everything.

The way I figure, I've been starving myself for three days before Katniss said she would, and I've never been 'well fed' to begin with. Katniss, on the other hand, looks as healthy as could be and she's starting to starve herself three days after me, thus putting me at an advantage. But incorporate body size, weight, and heck, you could even say growing up in Twelve could prepare you for this, and you've got your solution: If Katniss is really doing this (I doubt she's lying; I see straight through her lies), we'd both die around the same time. That leads to yet another revelation: I need to do something to save her. I close my eyes and sigh. I just need to think…

I don't think I can do anything to stop her but stop myself. Letting Katniss die is _not _an option. I could do this for a few days; see if she turns her back… I doubt she will. Katniss is as stubborn as a mule when she wants to be. It's one of the things I love about her, that ability to not step down from her cause unless she personally wants to. If she wants something, she will work endlessly to get it. So she has the life she wants, from what I can tell. Not her perfect life, the one where everyone is alive and happy and healthy, but the one where she feels that her life can't get any better. In her case, it probably can't.

Please, kill me now.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I try making her back out of her 'vow'. We end up staying in the white room for what I think is another five days. But here we are, both of us, staring into each other's eyes, searching for something. We've caught up. In the two years that have passed, we haven't done much. Nothing but heal.

But in that room, I think I've healed more in those few days than I have in the two years leading up to this. I see something happen to Katniss, like a mask being slowly removed; maybe a connection being forgotten; forgiven. The latter, however unlikely, a possibility. I almost start to forgive myself. As if one by one, all of those lost at my hand are letting the hate they keep for me go. And some of the hate I have for myself, I find, is gone.

Slowly, I get a bit better. Day by day. Every second I spend with Katniss is one second I don't wish I wasn't alive for. I only wish she could be mine… But that is a fate that will never be mine. If she doesn't want me, then I can't have her. It's her life; it's her decision.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A day later, a man who must be a doctor walks in. He declares me 'well' enough to be moved to a more suitable room. Ya, right. Cautiously, he and Katniss walk me to a different room. The first thing that doctor does is get me a plate of food and a glass of water. He and Katniss leave. The first thing _I _do is inspect the room. They made a major mistake. They put me in a room with a window. A window with just about the simplest lock to open, more specifically. A ghost of a smile crosses my face. I'm not quite healed. I turn the lock and open the window, cherishing the breeze that flows through it. I climb out onto the ledge. It's a three story jump. Just my luck. Closing the window behind me, I brace myself, and jump.


	6. Simply Confused

_A/N: I think this is my fastest upload ever! I plan to have the rest of this story up in two weeks or less. And warning to all of you Gale/ Katniss lovers: Peeta appears briefly in this chapter. And I put him in here because if I want to achieve my goals for this story, Peeta has to come up eventually. And this chapter contains no Gale/ Katniss interactions, sorry. I couldn't fit it in to my basic plot line, and I like the ending. It may be the first one that shows a light at the end of a tunnel. So I hope you enjoy Chapter Six, Simply Confused. _

First thought: Fear.

Second thought: What the hell am I doing this for?

Third thought: Why is the world fading to blackness….?

Katniss's POV

When I hear something hit the ground from outside, I know something's wrong. When I see Gale, covered in a pool of blood, eyes closed, I freak out, a million questions darting through my brain. I start yelling. And then, all the sudden, I find myself at his side, on my knees, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. I lift his limp arm, and check for the faint pulse in his wrist. It's still there. But just barely.

Soon enough, some paramedics take him away on a stretcher (when did they get here?), most likely to the small hospital that has been set up here. I feel hot tears welling in my eyes, threatening to overflow. I couldn't lose Gale; friends or not, he was my lifeline for so many years, I can't just let him go. Not yet.

Standing up, I brush the dirt from my knees, trying to avoid looking at the pool of blood that's next to my feet. I just stay there, dead on my feet, until Peeta comes outside and takes my hand in his. I rest my head on his shoulder. He brushes away a stray strand of my hair and whispers, "It'll be ok Katniss. Everything's going to be fine."

Peeta and I go to the hospital. I kind of feel bad from just leaving him for about a week to try and convince Gale not to kill himself, but I don't regret spending time with Gale. We sit in the waiting room, our hands intertwined, not talking. We both are, to put it simply, in different places. Mentally, that is.

I'm in shock. I thought Gale had gotten better; that he had healed from whatever phase he was in. Well, sort of. How wrong I was. And I can't keep that tortured look in his eyes out of my mind… They are haunting me. When I found out those bombs were of his and Beetee's design, I could see the guilt in his eyes. The pain was there. But when I saw him again, two years later, I didn't just see the guilt that I alone had caused him, the guilt of causing me pain. I saw the guilt of every being killed in the war reflected. The fire I once had seen in him was gone. Stamped out and flooded, ashes swept away. Like it was never there. I couldn't, and still can't, stand to see him like that; gone was his will to do anything. And for some strange reason, it hurts me too.

What's wrong with me? I didn't think I'd ever forgive him. Yet, I did. To me, this can mean only one thing: Do I love him?

Gale's POV

Pain. It's overwhelming. What's worse is the fact that I can feel it. I failed to end it. I must stir or something, because all the sudden, doctors and nurses are swooping over me with IVs and clipboards and other medical tools that I have no name for. A dull chattering fills the room. There's a sharp tightening around the side of my chest, then it stings like a thousand daggers. I figure that I hit a rock as I hit the ground and cut my side open… It's a miracle that I'm still alive. Or maybe a curse. It's a matter of opinion.

The doctors slowly finish whatever they are doing and one by one, they walk away, finally leaving me alone. They stand in the corner, discussing in low voices. Whether about my mental or physical state, I don't know or care. Probably both. I catch fragments of sentences, but the medical terms mean nothing to my mind. I don't even know what half of what they're saying means. I watch as all but one of them file out the door. The one that remains does something that I can't see, and then turns back to me with a syringe in his hand. It's almost funny how much I've come to hate those things; they always turn out to be full of the drugs that postpone me from doing what I need to do.

The doctor stands next to me, and looks at me with a look of curiosity on his face. It looks a lot like pity. My anger threatens to spark up, but I push it away. I wait for the man to say something, to do something. He places the needle on a small, metallic table next to me, and folds his arms.

"For someone who is considered a war hero, one of the big brains behind it all, you aren't being smart about what you're doing." I glare at the man. He returns it with a small smirk. "I know that you don't want help nor advice, but I'm giving you some anyways. Trying to punish yourself for something that you did in the past doesn't change the present. In your mind, you made some major mistakes, but you have to understand that what's done is what's done, and you can't change it. You live once, and you live for a reason. If you want to waste it, then be my guest. Feeling guilt and remorse is natural. But don't let it drive you to the edge. Those people wouldn't want you to do that."

I stare at the man, taking in his words. Something occurs to me. I say, "Those people and their families want to kill me. They want me dead. How could they not?"

A look I can't decipher crosses his face. "I would know. My son, he died in that episode at the Nut. I was angry at first, of course, but then I realized that it was done because you were trying to win a war. I knew that you acted for the greater good. Most of the other families of the victims agreed."

That stings more than a slap to the face. I cringe, and the doctor looks down at me. I don't even know his name…

"I hope you know that I'm not mad or angry. If anything, I admire you, Gale. Or I did. The easy way isn't the right way." He looks dead serious when he says this, "I want you to forgive yourself for my sake. If not for me, do it for my son. He wouldn't have wanted anyone, even if it was the person that ended him, to suffer. Learn to live again. Learn to laugh. Learn to love."

"I'll try. I can do that much. For your son." And I will.

The doctor, after zoning out for a moment, explains to me that I'm going to get stiches for the gash in my side, thus explaining the syringe. He does some basic prep stuff, checking my blood and vitals, then the cut itself, and gets me ready for 'transport'. Just before he sticks the syringe into my arm, I ask, "What's your name?"

He closes his eyes before answering. "James."

That's when I feel the medicine entering my blood flow, and I fall into a drugged sleep.

When I wake up, I am back in the room I was before. I'm alone. I rest my head against the back of my bed and sigh. I hate being confused.

But for the time being, I think I'll just have to learn to live with it.


End file.
